Fast Times At Hawkins High
by Sarai Carrasco
Summary: Little pieces about the ongoing lives of our favorite Hawkins folk, outside of the parameters set by the Duffer Brothers.
1. Take On Me

**Take On Me**

…~*~...

The creak of the battered front door caused Max to cringe as she opened it; stepping over the threshold into the pile carpet in the living room . She looked around for a moment, the still semi-silence of her house had her releasing the breath she held. Resting the griptape side of her skateboard against the white painted wall near the hallway, she made a note to put it under her bed before Neil returned home from work. Despite Hopper having taken him in on domestic violence charges only weeks after Billy's arrival home from the hospital, her step father was a top notch asshole, more than ever, to _everyone_.

A few paces into the kitchen, gummy vans soles squeaking on the linoleum as she went, and Max heard the faint sounds of a pop tune wafting down the hallway. It wasn't concerning, just out place if Billy was home, and he was. For a half of a second Max thought she might have left her boombox on when she'd left to meet everyone for hotdog on a stick at Starcourt. It had been their first time back since the mind flayer nearly decimated their entire lives. Again. But she remembered jabbing the power button before closing her door. If Neil came home early, she didn't want to risk the hair pulling and belting that had recently come to fruition. She'd suspected her time was coming, and she wasn't surprised when it did. Her Mom simply looked away, halfheartedly asking Neil to stop, then padded lightly down the hall for a glass of brandy and a cigarette. Also not surprising.

There was a thought now, maybe Billy had a girl over? Couldn't be, that meant Ted Nugent or Styx, but never Top 40 pop radio hits, like Ah-Ha. Perplexed, Max called down the darkened hallway.

"Billy? Are you here?" _Moron!_ She thought, of course he was here. His fully restored Camaro was out front, there were spent cigarette butts in Susan's ashtray on the counter, and an empty Coke can sat next to it. Billy was home, and Billy was listening to pop music.

"Billy?" She asked again. Still no answer. So she took a deep breath, then launched herself down the hallway to Billy's bedroom door. Shaking hand over the brass knob, Max steeled herself for the blowback, then turned the knob and pushed the door open.

In all of his metal head glory, Billy stood at his full length mirror, scissors in hand, feet astride the trash bin he kept by his bed. Steely blue eyes looked back at Max in the mirrors reflection.

"Billy?" Max asked in shock this time.

"What?" Came a nonchalant reply in his deep resonating timber. The hulking kitchen shears in Billy's hand were ajar, the fingers of his other hand holding a strand of his coveted dirty blonde locks between the two blades. Ready for action.

"Oh. I just didn't think you were home." Max looked anywhere but at her brother, taking in the abnormal lack of dirty laundry strewn about and empty beer cans on his bedside table. Mixed with the sounds of hip poppy melody, Max was perplexed. Then the sharo sound of the scissors slicing through strands of hair brought her attention back to the boy in front of the mirror.

"Why would you think that?" Another strand was tugged from somewhere at the base of his skull. If he was going for random, he had it covered. _*SNIP*_

"I uh, I thought I left my radio on. I mean, I heard music." She stood there awkwardly in his doorway, fumbling over her words, not wanting to trigger any anger in her brother. He wasn't quick to anger so much anymore, but it was a knee jerk reaction. Especially now that Neil found her to be a suitable substitute for Billy.

"Oh, yeah. El lent me a tape. Thought I'd give it a try." Another few snips. Then he turned around. The mullet Billy had carefully grown out and taken so much time with, was gone. It was still Billy, just a different version of him.

"What's with the new 'do?" Max pointed at his head.

"Hopper said if I clean my act up, hed help me a job. Can't work at the pool when summer ends, and I need something long term." Shaking out what was left of his hair, he turned back toward the mirror.

"Long term?" Max was confused. All her older brother had ever talked about was going to back to California after got enough money.

"Yeah. I'm staying in Hawkins."


	2. Voices Carry

_**This is a work of fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended. I own nothing pertaining to the Stranger Things universe… Lord knows I wish I did.**_

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**Voices Carry**

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Billy sat on the edge of the hospital bed, trying his best to button the shirt his Father and Susan had brought for him to change into. As glad as he was about being released home, there really was foreboding in his soul. So many nights he'd laid in that stiff unyielding bed, the tinge of bleach and blood in the air, wondering why he'd ever been given a second chance at life. If he never smelled blood or bleach again, it'd be too soon. He had three more buttons to slip through the buttonholes and just enough strength to do one more if he was lucky. The tugging of his muscles and marred flesh at the seams of surgical thread holding his chest and sides together, it let him know that he was lucky to be alive, if only to be a punching bag for his raging asshole of a father in a few weeks time.

"Jesus, hurry up Billy! I haven't got all day!" Slamming his heavy fist on the counter next to the sink, Neil huffed in frustration.

"Here, let me help you with that." Susan's boney fingers made quick work of one button before Neil had grabbed her by the wrist. Ignoring her look of shock and fright, he shoved her backward into the sterile plastic chairs beside the hospital bed. Satisfied that Susan was quiet and still in the chair, Neil huffed when she wiped hurriedly at the fresh tears in her eyes.

In the days before the mind flayer, Billy would have flinched at the abrupt movement of his father. He would have felt indifferent toward Susan, weeping silently, shivering in the blue plastic chair. He'd have been breathing heavy and holding back the ball that always slid into his throat, just under his larynx so it was difficult to speak when his father demanded it of him. Something about having massive meat poles puncture your body changes your perspective on what's really frightening and not.

"He can do it all on his own. If he can flip that goddamSn car and still rescue people from the mall of all places, he can handle a few lousy buttons." He hollered at Susan, the bloodshot whites of his eyes going wide in the fluorescent lights above as spit flew from his mouth. Billy waited for the rest of his father's harangue, he still hadn't blinked. "If you keep doing everything for him, how is he supposed to be a man?!"

"Excuse me! I think that's quite enough!" A gruff booming voice came from the doorway. Despite his large frame and heavy steel toe boots, the Hargroves had not heard him open the door and step inside.

"Chief Hopper, we didn't hear ya come in." Changing his demeanor entirely, Neil placed his white knuckled fists on his hips, backing away from the hulking man with a nervous smile tugging at his lips in an attempt to hide the fact he'd been yelling like a maniac. Having nearly jumped out of her skin in fear, Susan began shaking and let a small cry fall from her lips. Her nerves were shot, between Neil and his antics and worrying about Billy half dead in the hospital, she was barely holding herself together. Hopper looked around Neil to the fragile sobbing mess that was Susan Hargrove.

"Yeah." He said sarcastically, still looking at Susan then to Neil and finally to Billy, who was struggling with the buttons still, barely keeping the pain from his eyes when he met Hopper's angry blue ones. "You need help with that son?"

Shame clouded Billy's face as his hands fell to his sides on the crisp white bed sheet, but the way Jim Hopper addressed him had Billy surrendering in defeat. "I think so Chief, it hurts somethin' fierce."

"See, I have an eye for things, assessing the situation as soon as I arrive at the scene. In this case, it was the voice I heard in the hallway." Hop buttoned the last button, hiding the edges of bandage and tape. "Why don't you go ahead and say 'Hi' to _El_ and the others outside."

Looking from Hop to Neil and Susan, stiff and scared looking in the pair of chairs, Billy did his best to hold in the yelp of pain as he slid from the bed and stood on his own two feet. Hop clapped him softly on the back, and closed the door behind him. There in the hallway was a large gathering; Eleven, Max, Lucas, Dustin and Will, Nancy, Jonathan, Steve and Robin were all there with Joyce. They'd all become regular faces at his bedside. Joyce had taken a real interest in him, showing up to his physical therapy appointments and bringing him home cooked meals when she could. She was so warm and such a comfort to him. His Dad and Susan never visited. Not once.

Max and her friends were always in after school, talking his ear off while he waited for Joyce, Jonathan and Will. Jonathan and Nancy brought him his stereo from home and even went so far as to gather quite a collection of cassette tapes for him to listen to when he was reading the magazines and comic books that Steve and Robin had been bringing him.

Eleven would show up late sometimes with Hopper in tow. They'd play board games and she'd bring her special eggos for him once a week. Hopper had made quite an impact on him in those long drawn out weeks of suffering and healing. They talked a lot about his home life; El had let it slip one night when they were playing yahtzee and Billy flinched when Hopper boomed his disappointment at not getting a large straight. It was then that Jim Hopper realized he had to do something for this broken boy, and things got better from there. Billy began to trust the people that came to see him. The ones he'd nearly been ripped apart for.

He'd never had many friends growing up, so this was enough to send him over the edge, the whole group of them together, waiting for him. With a sniffle, Billy shuffled forward, taking in all of the faces that waited for him in the hallway.

"You look, better." El said, raising a hand to touch the scabbing parts of Billy's face. He smiled, letting a tear plop hot and wet on Eleven's forearm.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry kid." Wiping at the wetness of her arm and his eyes, he felt ashamed suddenly. He still wrestled with himself, about how much of this was real. If he truly deserved to be cared for.

"Billy, it's just tears. It's alright to cry." Eleven was just stating the obvious, but it meant more to Billy than that. He looked at her mouth agape for a beat, then shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"Yeah, just tears. What are you guys all doing here?" Changing the subject quickly, Billy cleared his throat.

"We wanted to ask if you'd want to come for a small get together at my place. We missed the Fourth of July festivities afterall." Joyce stepped forward, rubbing small circles over Billy's still sore bicep.

"Today?" He asked, shocked that she had even asked him. He briefly thought on the last time he was at Joyce's house, pushing the memories away as soon as they came flooding into the forefront of his mind.

"Yes, but if you think it's too soon, we can change it to another day." Her eyes widened, hoping she wasn't imposing on the young man's recuperation and recovery, she smiled unsuredly.

"No, that sounds great! I wasn't looking forward to going home just yet anyway." Billy and Max's eyes met, neither one was too keen on the idea of family time with Neil and Susan. That meant a whole plethora of fights and broken vases among other things.

"Really? Oh that's great!" Joyce's smile was wide and toothy. Then the door swung open behind them and Hopper stepped out, hands gripping his tactical belt firmly. Jim Hopper was a man of few words, and with his lack of vocalization came his ability to convey his meaning with a mere nod of his head and the rise of an eyebrow in any direction.

"Come on, let's eat." With another clap from Hopper on the back, Billy followed the Police Chief without question, and hoped that this would be the first of many gatherings at the Byers home.


End file.
